Subservient to No One
by Folded Papers
Summary: Introducing trust and understanding was a bane to every pair of existing lover, even for Ichigo and Ishida. If, by chance, BDSM could help Ichigo understand what Ishida want in their relationship, he would sure to give it a try. BDSM, Yaoi, Consensual.
1. Chapter 1

"Ishida, where do you want to go after school?"

"Home."

"That's not interesting at all."

A pair of teenage boys, students of Karakura High, was having their lunch on the school's rooftop. One had vivid orange hair and of larger built if compared to the leaner, dark-haired bespectacled teen. Their breads were munched on in silence but it was the taller one – Kurosaki Ichigo – who crumpled the wrapping first and stuffed it in his pocket before reclining fully on his back on the tiled floor.

"I hear there's a new shop opening at the skirt of the town."

Ishida Uryuu – the one with glasses – swallowed his food and sighed, "You want us to go there?"

"Why not? We're free afterwards."

Ishida was not free – never will be. He had books to read, articles to sew, revisions to complete and homework to do. A fall in his grades would mean cancellation of his scholarship which therefore would lead to poverty and disgrace as his dear old father, a hospital director, would mock him for not being able to stand on his own two feet.

"I've been thinking a lot, Ishida. About us," Ichigo suddenly said softly, his eyes averted to his partner. "We've been together for two months already, yet I don't feel if we're progressing at all."

To Ishida, it had been an unbelievable two months. Ichigo had managed to get hold of him in the arts 'n craft clubroom one evening and unfortunately (or fortunately) they had been alone – Ishida, as president had to stay back to ensure the classroom was in order after activities and locked for the day. He was busy collecting baskets of yarn when Ichigo spoke of something incoherent in a bloody quick pace that all Ishida could gather was "sorry-to-be-so-sudden-wah-wah-wah-had-to-say-wah-wah-wah". Shortly put, Ichigo was not making any sense. But the last sentence sprung Ishida to reality.

"_I like you."_

So Ishida was then slowly coaxed to a wall, baskets of yarn still in his arms. Ichigo settled them on a nearby cabinet before whispering, "I really like you." Then they shared their first kiss.

Ishida was close to putting an aptly placed knitting needle through the bastard's heart but decided against it when he noticed Ichigo's frowning look. The latter _always _frowned but this time, it mirrored some sort of turbulence within himself. Ishida sensed self-doubt. Ichigo was probably asking himself if confessing was the right thing to do, and would Ishida break their friendship because of this "spur of the moment" action, and would he be thought as a queer for saying "I like you" to another guy?

So Ishida decided to give it a try. The kiss did not make his insides go warm like Inoue Orihime (his club's vice president) had said it would, yet it did not make him feel suffocated with disgust. Maybe he was curious. Maybe he was wondering if going out with another guy would result in anything? Ishida hated to use Ichigo to satisfy his inquisitiveness – Ichigo was a man of honour, an invaluable friend (despite being a dickhead sometimes) – but why not give each other a chance? For better or worse, with a pure or manipulative intent, why not?

"_Okay."_

They spent more time together in each other's company after school. Ichigo always ended up in Ishida's home; it was only there they would be guaranteed privacy. During the first week, they talked. Ishida learned more about his partner and vice versa. He was still not comfortable about telling Ichigo his family affairs so he carefully evaded the query about his father. Ichigo might have gotten the hint as he did not probe further. Ishida was grateful that beneath the crass exterior Ichigo put up, he was quite considerate and thoughtful for a person.

And then at night, in the dark hall with only the moon beam illuminating it through the balcony, they talked no more. Ichigo had his arm around Ishida's more slender frame and was pulling the latter closer to him. With his free hand, he pushed the thin chin up and claimed the lips again.

And that was pretty much what they did for two months.

"What is it you're complaining about now, Kurosaki?"

Ichigo sat up again and turned to the other. He scrutinized the irritated scowl before saying carefully, "Why can't we do more?"

Ishida had never found himself caught in such a sticky relationship before so he had no idea what Ichigo meant by "more". But he had read pamphlets and magazines about homosexual relationships where sex was always first and foremost. Ishida obviously did not want that. So if Ichigo was pressing for it, he would have to speak his mind.

"If all you're after for is sex –"

Then he was pushed roughly to the ground – a pair of strong arms had ceased him by his shoulders – and his head knocked into solid tile. His vision was blurred momentarily but that could be because of the blazing sun, and not to forget the bright orange bristles that were Ichigo's hair.

"I don't mean it that way, Ishida," Ichigo said clearly.

"Get off –"

"No, you have to listen. You have to understand!"

Ishida kept quiet and stopped struggling against Ichigo. The vice grips on his shoulders relaxed and Ichigo inhaled generously.

"I know how you're feeling, Ishida. I can understand somewhat, after these two months. I don't want you to accept my feelings out of obligation that sometimes, I ask myself, maybe it's wrong – starting this relationship? But I don't want to break it off now that I have you." Ishida's shoulders were shaken slightly and Ichigo looked away, his frown deeper than usual. "But if all you can think of is me trying to take advantage of you, then I'd rather we call it stop."

Ishida was deeply _astounded_. It never struck him that Ichigo was a deep thinker but those words serve as a good wake up call. If their relationship was not going to have sex for foundation, then Ishida suppose it was fine? So slowly, he raised his arms and snaked them around Ichigo's neck. Surprised brown eyes bore into his vision.

"Then what do you expect to find in our relationship?"

"Trust, respect."

Ishida hated mushy scenes. If ever Ichigo muttered the forbidden four-lettered word, he would definitely smite him with his arrows.

"Then it's all good to go."

So on the rooftop, under the blazing sun with the bright orange bristles so close to Ishida, their lips touched… and locked.

-----

"What kind of shop is this?"

After school, Ichigo brought Ishida to the newly opened shop – as promised – and both were fascinated as well as baffled with the gothic-like decoration. Black and leather seemed to be the theme and there was a morbid tang of something unpleasant ringing in the air. Ishida was not happy.

"I'm out of here."

"Ishida, wait!"

Ichigo held his wrist and practically hauled him into the building. He himself never expected an ominous, lingering mood like this; then again, how real could things be when viewed online from a screen?

Ichigo had not told Ishida but this place that threshold they had just stepped over was a center specializing in BDSM training. He suspected it would be the first time for both of them, and honestly, it was a little bit daunting but for the sake of "trust", he would like to give it a try – not to mention it was partially to satisfy his curiosity of a master-and-slave relationship.

Before he clicked the "Book a room!" icon, he had sworn to himself that before, during and after the session, he would never treat Ishida as subservient. He might not be able to help it, watching Ishida struggle in his bonds, but by hook or by crook, he want to main equality in their relationship. It could be as good as over after this one hour, but Ichigo was willing to take the risk.

"Kurosaki! What is the meaning of this?"

Their steps stopped as Ichigo surveyed an unknown man with bright blue hair who was standing by a large pillar in the reception hall. Ichigo nodded to his direction and he came over, his leather boots tapping smartly on the floor.

"Let go!"

Ishida pulled his wrist out of Ichigo's and took a step back from the new presence. The man gave a curt bow to Ishida, to which he reciprocated with a mild glower, and he turned to address Ichigo. "This is your sub?"

Ichigo blinked in confusion while Ishida retreat another step. A look of horror and repulsion was clearly splashed on his façade.

"All right," the man said, "I'm going to assume he _is_ your sub. In that case, if you don't mind…"

The man clapped his hand and two other emerged from the back, each took Ishida firmly by his upper arms. Ishida's string of protests was very quickly silenced when one of his captors fastened his hand around his mouth. Ichigo, greatly displeased at Ishida's manhandling, yelled, "Don't hurt –!"

"Take him away."

"Let him go –!"

The man, however, grabbed Ichigo painfully tight by his shoulder and he too was pulled away in the opposite direction. Before long, Ishida was out of his sight, and so was the reception hall… and all there was to see was brick wall, candles and cabinets. Ichigo was then made to sit in a wooden stool and somewhere in the back, a heavy door was slammed shut. The room – wherever he was – was plunged into utter quietness.

Ichigo steeled in his seat.

"What the hell are you doing to Ishida? What are you going to do to us?"

The man pouted. "That's a very harsh thing to say. You make me sound like a bad person."

"You just took a man away without his consent! That's a breach of his rights!"

"Weren't you the one who signed up for a session here, Kurosaki-kun?"

Ichigo's eyes were alight as his jaws were set, seething at the being before him. The man leaned against the wall, keeping a comfortable distance between them and said, "I'm Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, founder and rightful owner of this center. You are Kurosaki Ichigo, 16 years old, have zero experience in BDSM." His surreptitious glare swept over Ichigo and he added, "And vanilla sex as well, maybe."

Ichigo's face flushed red.

The hint of playfulness evaporated in Grimmjow's next question. "Why do you come here? You two don't look like the kind of people who're into this sort of thing."

A slight fidget caught Grimmjow's attention but he let it past, focusing instead on Ichigo's troubled visage. At long last, the younger said, "I confessed to him two months ago. It was a fulfilling relationship, spiritually, emotionally… but I wish we could do more. I told him of this… _desire_… and he said, if it's only for the sex, we might as well stop seeing each other. I of course don't wish to have only sex in our relationship." The last of his words were uttered so softly Grimmjow could barely hear, but he did, and he replied, "That doesn't explain why you come to us."

Ichigo lifted his head. "I hear BDSM creates trust and understanding between each other. I'm willing to learn."

Grimmjow did not know if he should burst out laughing, or shake his head in dismay, or even collar Ichigo before walloping him through and through. So instead, he peeled himself from the wall and sighed. Sighing seemed to be a more neutral and acceptable gesture.

"You really have zero experience and knowledge – screw – you don't understand _a bloody bit_ about BDSM. Trust cannot be 'created', as you put it. It has to be earned. And it works not only between lovers; it works the same for everybody. If you think by subscribing your partner to softcore sexual fetishes will help 'create' an understanding, then you are mightily wrong, kid. "

Ichigo guessed he would be kicked out of the premise there and then. Ishida would probably start denying his very existence – that would be the end of him. _This _would be the end of him – getting so caught up in this relationship.

"But, I'm not stupid enough to turn a potential customer away, albeit a rather foolish one I'll say," Grimmjow said with a slight shake of his head. "The preparation should be ready. Come."

Grimmjow just up and left the room in three strides. Ichigo quickly got to his feet and trailed the other man down dark staircases and hallways. If there was light, it was only because of several lit up candles installed against the walls. On further scrutiny, Ichigo realised they were actually electrical bulbs but the lights were made to flicker like real candles. If only he was not as strung up as he was, he would be complimenting Grimmjow for a suitably conjured ambience.

They stopped in front of another large, heavy-looking wooden door. Grimmjow pointed to another door beside it – one that was made off contrasting aluminium – and said, "My assistant and a medic officer will be in there. This room," he waved at the wooden door, "is equipped with CCTV and microphones. We promise privacy to our clients, so we'll only turn them on every ten minutes to monitor your sub's condition. If there's an emergency, there's a red button on the wall by this door. We'll come right away. Clear?"

Ichigo was going to push the handle when he was suddenly tapped on his back, being asked for attention.

"One more thing, that boy in there is still tense and probably confused. It's your bloody fault though – you should be telling him of your intentions."

"What intentions?" Ichigo asked quickly, slightly panicking.

"That's you're going to touch him… _everywhere_,"Grimmjow said, the final word stressed out. Watching Ichigo's expression had amused him more than enough.

"I'll see you in one hour then."

"But – no, wait!"

Grimmjow heaved an exasperated sigh and beckoned his assistants to enter the observation room first. When they were alone in the hallway, he folded his arms. "What, now you're getting cold feet? If you want to forfeit your reservation, you still have to pay in full."

"What should I do?" Ichigo asked bluntly, quietly.

"Look, kid. Like I said, your sub in there is still shocked and confused and right now, it's your chance to prove what a loving, kind, sensitive dom you are. You said you wanted to have something physical, so go ahead! Once you manage to calm him down, you get to have your way with him."

Grimmjow turned on his heel and pushed the aluminium door open. Light sifted into the dark hallway. He paused. "However," he started, his blue eyes suddenly cold and unforgiving, "I do not condone violence, torture and most of all, rape. If my client happens to commit one of those acts under this roof, I will personally have him charged. 16-year-old schoolboys aren't excluded either."

Grimmjow then disappeared into the room.

-----

The dungeon-like chamber was dark, so much unlike the observation room that Grimmjow and his assistants were occupying now. There was no way to locate the CCTVs and microphones, not in this level of brightness, but the dim candle-like lights allow him to see no more farther than what was presented in the middle of the space.

Ishida's arms were raised above his head, his wrists shackled and chained to the ceiling. Black cloth was tied firmly around his eyes and he was kneeling on the stone floor, unspeaking, unmoving. There was a small trolley beside his form. Ichigo walked closer and Ishida, upon hearing the footsteps, called out, "Who's there?"

"It's me."

The edgy nervousness that was initially found in his voice was substituted with a snarl. "What is the meaning of this, Kurosaki? Let me go! This is a crime!" He fought against his binds – useless, of course – and the chains rattled in the air. Ichigo half-heartedly wanted to call this off. He never wanted to have Ishida non-consensually.

"_Gag him."_

Both froze at the impending order; Ichigo assumed Grimmjow (it sounded like him) was having his first check on the CCTV. Ishida continued his struggle with more gusto, tearing and pulling as much as he could at his cuffs.

Ichigo however, approached the trolley and found a ball-like item fixed to a cloth strap. He held it before Ishida's mouth, waiting for it to open. Ishida merely turned his head away and gritted his teeth. From a distant, Ichigo thought he had heard Grimmjow chuckling from the other room. Pushing thoughts of anyone other than Ishida from his mind, he parked himself before the dark haired teen and cupped those angular jawline.

And, like what they had done so many times before, they kissed. Ishida was still bent on having his lips pursed tight but Ichigo was relentless. He bit at the bottom lip, thrust his tongue as hard as he could between them and even tickled the edge of the mouth. None worked. Ishida's body was starting to react to Ichigo's touch, but not the way Ichigo wanted and it pained him. When he brushed the nape of Ishida's neck with his finger, Ishida flinched and pulled away as far as the chains allowed him.

It was as if Ishida had hated and feared him.

"Ishida," Ichigo whispered, inching closer to the kneeling form. Again Ishida thrashed about, but Ichigo merely leaned in and nuzzled at his jawline. Thin kisses were laid at his earlobe, his cheekbone, and finally, landing again at the edge of his lips. "Don't fear me," Ichigo whispered again, licking at the slightly chapped skin. The he pressed his lips fully on Ishida's, this time with sincerity, almost like the time they had their first contact in the clubroom. Ishida's jaws were more relaxed than before and Ichigo nudged at the lower lip with his tongue. Briefly, _very_ briefly, Ishida's lips parted and Ichigo dived for it, tasting the warm cavern with dexterity. He did not let a single spot go untouched and the tongue wrestling they had began to lose its vigour when Ishida was running out of breath. Ichigo backed off and wiped strings of saliva off his chin, watching Ishida panting for dear oxygen.

And that was when Ichigo inserted the gag in that inviting mouth.

The frown returned to Ishida and he thrashed in his chained form, trying to order Ichigo to remove the restricting item but all that could be heard was unintelligible noises. The gag was pressing on his tongue, filling the cavity. Ishida hated the feel of it.

Ichigo walked around and knelt behind Ishida, the latter in between his thighs.

"Don't fear me, Ishida. I won't harm you."

Another train of garbles.

"This isn't the way to gain trust, I know."

Ishida's protests died. Ichigo took it as a sign for him to continue talking, that Ishida wanted some explanation for this horrid situation he was in.

"I don't want to have pleasure to myself. I'm not asking for sex, I'm not asking you out just so I can use your body and throw you away after that. Every day when we're together, I get the feeling we… aren't as close as we should be. I want to fix that."

But could a relationship not exist without physical satisfaction? Could it not?

"If, after this one hour, you hate me, I promise I will let you go and stay out of your life. In return, I hope you can grant me this one chance to show you how much I want to pleasure you."

Ichigo went on and planted a soft kiss at the side of his neck, licking at the pulse that was beginning to go at a maddening beat. His left hand crept to Ishida's chest and the other skated smoothly at his side, causing the teen to twist somewhat in Ichigo's hold. Then, against the pale neck, Ichigo asked, "Is it okay to touch you?"

Ishida spoke something against his gag. Ichigo continued kissing at the dry skin, and kept his hands still. It was only after Ishida stopped making noises than Ichigo's left hand began roaming the expanse of Ishida's chest. When it rested over the heart, he felt the crazed palpitations that were strong below the ribcage. Ichigo leaned deeper into Ishida, pressing his front into the latter's back and hope Ishida could discern his beating heart as well.

"I won't harm you," he muttered. A finger lightly rubbed against a nipple through the cotton shirt Ishida was wearing and Ichigo heard a sound – Ishida's mouth had clenched around his gag. The bud stood up very quickly and he gave the same administration to the other, enjoying the little responses Ishida's body was giving. His right hand massaged the small space between Ishida's navel and crotch, calming the teen down and at the same time, encouraging some sort of guessing game as to what Ichigo was going to do next. Ishida had a good guess, of course, but he did not voice it out and remained silent.

"Ishida…"

Ichigo fiddled with the hem of the black trousers, letting Ishida know – confirm – what he was planning next. Not finding resistance, Ichigo slid his fingers down the soft bulge before cupping it, eliciting a sudden gasp from Ishida.

"These are all I'm touching… Ishida… will you let me?"

But Ichigo was already unbuttoning the shirt, letting it part so the pale torso was exposed entirely to the chilly air. The nipples stood out – whether from the coldness of sensitivity after Ichigo's touch was uncertain – and Ichigo went back to teasing them.

Then there was a clank – his elbow had accidentally collided with the leg of the trolley.

Peering at the top of it, he saw an array of low-level equipments. Grimmjow's assistants must have selected these specific types to suit Ichigo's level of experience, which was really nil. There was not many to choose from, too – clamps, feathers, vibrators and a bottle of lubricant.

Ichigo quickly decided on clamping the pert nipples. Ishida had hissed from the initial discomfort but when it numbed down, he did not even realise Ichigo was licking and kissing them apologetically. Then the kisses went lower, and lower… and then his belt was undone. The zipper was pulled and there, Ichigo found the prize he sought after. A finger trailed at the bulge and Ishida shifted.

Ichigo went back to the trolley. The only thing that caught his eyes was the vibrator. He had told Ishida there would not be any penetration but that did not really limit the usage of a vibrator, did it? Switching it on, he held it close to Ishida's ear.

"Can you guess what this is?"

Ishida's momentary freeze told him enough.

Ichigo pressed the item at Ishida's sternum. It tickled and Ishida arched his back inwards, pulling away from it. Ichigo quickly used his own body as a "wall", decimating the "escaping area" for Ishida and forced the vibrator down to his lower abdomen and sides. Ishida was frantic – his mouth was clamping harder at the gag and his arms were pulling more fiercely at the chains. Ichigo removed the vibrator and rubbed circles on Ishida's wrists.

"Don't struggle so much," Ichigo cooed into his right ear. "You're hurting yourself."

Keeping an arm there, Ichigo retrieved the vibrator and buried half of it in Ishida's brief. The vibration that was massaging his penis, skin on skin, caused a jolt in his system and Ishida shook, tense against Ichigo's frame.

"Can you feel it, Ishida?"

His free hand went down to cup at the balls through the fabric. The sensation was bringing Ishida to a new level; his temperature rising and his senses heightened. Feeling the need to have more air, he fought against his gag to let Ichigo know. But Ichigo thought Ishida was asking for a greater stimulation so he rained kisses along the shoulder and neck, places where Ichigo had learned today, Ishida loved kissed.

"_Remove the gag, kid."_

Ichigo swiveled around – for a moment, he forgot he was in Grimmjow's lair. The hand that was holding Ishida securely by his wrists came down to cup at his jaw, pushing the head to lean against his chest.

"Ishida?"

A deep groan (as much as it sounded with a gag in place) was produced and Ichigo quickly undid the buckle. Carefully, he took the ball now coated with saliva out of Ishida's somewhat bruised mouth and dropped it to the floor, abandoning it, preferring to draw Ishida into an embrace.

"Are you hurt?" Ichigo asked, suddenly worried when Ishida began to draw in air like there was not enough around them. For a while, Ishida said nothing, focusing only on his breathing – Ichigo started glancing at the red button near the exit. But if Grimmjow and his medic had not barged into the room, did it mean everything was still below what the experts would deem as "emergency"?

"Ishida?"

"_Hah_ – couldn't breathe properly with the gag – _hah_ –"

But the panting did not stop. Ichigo really was going to press the button – but then he heard the dull whizzing of the vibrator, still on and wedged neatly between Ishida's pelvic region and the brief's rubbery hem.

"Sorry, I forgot," he muttered, resuming his caress on Ishida's scrotum. An audible hiss reverberated in the dungeon-like room and the chains chink against each other. With enough air in his lungs to keep a clear mind of what was happening to him, he began to feel a warm stir in his crotch. Even as his legs were getting numb from lack of circulation, he did not care – all he was paying attention to was Ichigo's other hand that had somehow began to fondle at the head of his erection.

"Kurosaki…"

"Can you feel it, Ishida?"

Ichigo thought he was going to put in more effort into massaging the bulge when spurts of creamy substances spouted out of the shaft's tip. Ishida himself had his back bent so his head rested on Ichigo's shoulder; his teeth gnashing against each other as though trying to bite away the growls and grunts of peaking pleasure. Ichigo kept his hands on the tightening ball and penis as Ishida hit his orgasm, prolonging the sensation and a quick moan snuck its way out.

A bout of shiver racked the leaner teen's physique. Ichigo promptly removed the vibrator and blindfold, to which Ishida winced as light was introduced into his eyes. Not trusting the strength of his own legs, he rearranged his shaky limbs so that he could sit properly on the floor instead of kneeling.

Truthfully, Ishida did not think it was such a traumatising experience. The sudden feel of vulnerability definitely takes time to be accustomed to – in fact, Ishida did not think he would _ever _get used to – but at least, during all those times, Ichigo was constantly with him, gentle and selfless. Another thing that infuriated him was his low endurance. He did _not _believe he had shot his load so quickly – it never even happened when he was doing it to himself – but then again, that was probably eons ago. He would be darned if Ichigo decided to think that he was a poor, sexually frustrated healthy 16-year-old deprived of sexual release and took it upon himself to "ease it away". Ishida was determined to put an end to this sorry excuse for a partner's life should he lay another finger on him within the next few days.

The chains clank again.

"I'm going to remove all these, hold still."

The shackles were the first thing to come off. Ichigo had caringly massaged the pale arms, allowing blood to flow properly into the vessels. He guessed it would be very uncomfortable for the other teen to have his arms up above his head for one full hour and understood why Ishida grimace each time his fingers kneaded into the sore flesh. Using his own broad chest as something for Ishida to prop himself up, Ichigo's coarse fingers then moved towards the heaving chest. With a pinch at the end of the jutting clamp, it came free.

A low hiss was picked up.

"Sorry," Ichigo said, rubbing the swollen nipple gently with his thumb. Ishida hissed again but louder and reached out for Ichigo's hand, stopping the motion.

"Don't. It's more painful if you touch."

Now free from all the items, Ishida let his body be pulled into Ichigo's arms. Well, good.

"Let's get out of here," the orange headed teen had suggested.

That was when the heavy door swung open and the dark room brightened up a bit with a flick of a switch beside the red button which Ichigo had failed to regard just now. Grimmjow – his blue hair a shade of grey under the weak light – was smiling at the door frame. Behind him stood another man whom Ichigo assumed to be the medic Grimmjow had talked about earlier.

"There's a bed at that corner. Let that kid rest. Then you can come to the reception hall and settle the bill."

When they were once again alone in the room, Ichigo dug his head into the crook of Ishida's shoulder. He said, "And the verdict? Do you hate me, Ishida?"

The reply? A soft kiss on Ichigo's lips. If one hour ago, Ichigo had demanded for more from Ishida, presently, he was very satisfied with that simple gesture. _Very_.


	2. Chapter 2

Two months back, Kurosaki Ichigo had courageously confessed his feelings to fellow classmate, Ishida Uryuu. Ishida, either he really liked Ichigo or because of pure dumb luck on the latter's part, accepted. One month later – three months from the day they started going out – they found their niche in a gothic looking center at the skirt of the town, a BDSM center.

Grimmjow had inevitably raised a blue eyebrow when the both of them return one week after their first try. He took them by their collars and dragged them purposely out to the doorstep when Ichigo said chokingly that they wanted to continue their session here. Grimmjow finally let them in after little persuasion (why say no to money?). Then he _personally _gave them some lessons on the disciplinary and theoretical part of BDSM.

So that was how the teens found themselves seated in two wooden stools facing Grimmjow who was leaning casually against the brick wall with a mild scrunched up face upon him.

"I usually go straight to practical but considering this is you," he nodded vaguely in Ichigo's direction, "we're talking about, I might as well start from the beginning. BDSM as you know stands for Bondage Discipline Sadism Masochism. However, I don't agree you need a sadistic dom and a masochistic sub in a pair, and another, just because you always tie and gag your sub doesn't make you a dom forever. The roles can be easily reversed, but it's all up to preference of course. What now?"

Grimmjow jabbed his index finger irritably at Ichigo who had raised his hand in the air.

"Can we at least start with what's a dom and a sub?"

Grimmjow shook his head. "Were you slow as a child?"

Ishida had pushed his glasses up his nose while Ichigo flushed.

"Dom is the short form of dominant; sub for submissive. Now, while a dom is always the person in charge, he should never forget about his sub's wellbeing. If something's going wrong or if something _feels_ wrong, the session must be stopped by all means. The sub is also responsible for himself but during a play, he shouldn't forget about his dom's pleasure." Grimmjow then folded his arms and surveyed the blushing faces of the teens before him. "Amateurs," he sighed.

-----

Ishida shifted uncomfortably in his bonds. He was brought back to the dungeon-like room where he had his first try at BDSM and to his dismay, he found himself set up exactly like that time; both arms high above his head, shackled to the ceiling while his legs were folded in a kneeling position. The cold chains were now substituted with supports that seem more elastic; Ishida suspected bungee ropes.

Then the heavy door opened. He saw orange tussles.

Ishida let Ichigo approach him. The expression that the latter don was unreadable it unnerve Ishida a bit, but nevertheless, he stared hard into the hazel eyes, not breaking contact. Being a sub did not make him sissy by default. If Ichigo wanted to have a staring competition, then hell, Ishida would stare holes into the bastard's skull until the hour was up.

Apparently, a staring contest was not what Ichigo have in mind.

"You won't mind if I make you cum more than once today, will you, Ishida?"

Not expecting something so provocative, he turned away. Ichigo knelt behind him again, just like that time, and began to unbutton the shirt. Since his arms were in the way, Ichigo had no choice but to let it drape freely around the shoulders; then he busied himself with Ishida's belt and pants.

Ishida however paid no attention to the obvious stripping process that was taking place; he peeked over the trolley that was placed beside him by one of Grimmjow's assistants not long ago and found new items. The clamps and vibrators that were used against him were not here. There were however, feathers, a small pail with beads of condensed water on the outside and a ring; nothing that could harm him physically so, good.

And something was touching him down there.

A brief moan escaped him when Ichigo softly entangled his fingers in those dark pubic hairs. With his other hand, he rubbed at the balls, kneading at the soft flesh. A single nip to his jugular and Ishida found himself turning sideways, away from Ichigo's piercing glare. From the balls, the hand slid up to slide slowly along the length. Ishida still was not used to having his privates touched so intimately, the mere thought and sight of a foreign hand _there _was enough to send a warm stir in his crotch.

"You're not in the mood, today?" Ichigo asked, frowning at why he had not gotten Ishida a proud erection.

"Heh," the dark haired teen scoffed, "it'll be disgraceful if a little touching is all it takes to reach the finishing line."

He had always gotten off fast, but as the month passed by he had developed some endurance. If he wanted Ichigo to enjoy this as much as he sometimes did (he still had not gotten used to BDSM), he should learn how to pace himself, allow Ichigo to savour the pleasure of serving whatever he had in mind to his sub.

A warm hand – Ichigo's – pinched Ishida by his chin to coax him to turn back and he found himself looking squarely at his partner. A tiny smile crept up his lips as he pressed them against Ichigo's. Their tongues had only swept briefly when Ichigo pulled back.

"We have one hour, why the haste?" he whispered.

Ishida was not happy. He pulled at his bonds.

"You sure need to lighten up," the orange haired teen said distractedly as he looked over the trolley. It only took him two seconds flat to pick a large, black feather. Playfully, Ichigo dangled it in front of Ishida's perplexed face. "Laughter is the best medicine."

Ishida would not call himself ticklish, but there were some spots that should _never _know a feather up close and personal. Ichigo brushed it lightly along the side of his face, from the sweaty temple to his jaw. Ishida was still looking at Ichigo as if daring him to continue using the feather.

"We won't know if this'll make you feel good if we don't try," Ichigo shrugged, tracing the tip of the feather down the pale throat, over the quivering Adam's apple and to the crook of Ishida's collarbones. At this part, Ishida shuddered and his eyelids slid shut briefly.

"One," Ichigo counted, his deep voice shook the core of Ishida's body. A wet tongue glided over the spot where the feather had previously touched, as if apologizing for the taunting. Ishida hissed.

The feather resumed its track, sweeping over the right shoulder… goosebumps were beginning to form.

"Don't you dare," Ishida said loudly, his mouth gaping at Ichigo.

"Why not?"

The feather then attacked the vulnerable armpit; Ishida shook as he laughed dryly. He could hear his own voice echoing in the room and also knew that he would be losing it if Ichigo kept at it. But the assault stopped and Ishida panted. Ichigo still had the ball to swing the feather in front of Ishida as he said, "I told Grimmjow I was going to use this, and he suggested switching iron chains to something more elastic. I think it's impossible to ask you to hold still and I'll be sorry if it's for me your wrists are bruised."

Ishida looked up and considered the words. He replied curtly, "I won't let you go easy after we get back home."

Ichigo nonetheless broke into an innocent quirky grin, the kind he showed to his younger twin sisters when they said something amusing. "Yeah."

"That'll mean no dinner –"

A shocked gasp interrupted Ishida when he felt the treacherous feather circling his areole. The innocent grin that was plastered on Ichigo's face vanished as quickly as his eyes were fixed on Ishida's chest. The black haired teen would probably turn four shades of red if only he was not preoccupied with the teasing on his now hardening nipple.

"Two," Ichigo mumbled again. Ishida's eyes creaked open to see what Ichigo was possibly counting for in such a circumstance, only to see the slick tongue darting out to lick at the bud.

"What – are you counting?"

"Your," Ichigo's tongue went lower to the sternum, "erogenous spots."

Ishida's penis gained more rigidity, enough for it to even be noticed by a "busy" Ichigo. He fished it out of the confinement of Ishida's brief and wedged the base in between his middle and forefinger, holding it somewhat upright.

"How does this feel, Ishida?"

The feather tip brushed generously over the foreskin. Ishida groaned, but he closed his knees so abruptly he almost knocked Ichigo over.

"What is it?" Ichigo asked, alarmed.

"It itches, idiot."

If Ichigo did not know any better, he would have scratched on it (and then have Ishida chase him around with an axe) but with his thumb, he flicked the skin over. Once, twice, then he swiveled his finger pad over it.

Ishida's body liked it.

Ichigo replaced the feather on the trolley – much to Ishida's relieve – only to come back with the pail.

"Tsk, it's melting… I wonder if it's possible to ask for a free replacement…"

Ishida knew it! "This is crazy," he commented with a straight face. His insides squirmed when he see Ichigo dip a hand into the bucket.

Oh, there would be hell to pay. Ishida continued shooting venomous stares as Ichigo straighten up and glue their fronts together, so their heads could rest on each other's shoulder. A large palm was roaming over his naked back and Ishida relaxed fairly, but still tense enough for Ichigo to notice.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered tenderly.

Those were what Ichigo always say when he sense some discomfort in his partner, and albeit as cliché as it sound, to Ishida, its soothing property work wonder. That was all that matters –

– until the coldness jolt him to reality, to Ichigo who was currently running a block of ice down his spine. The ice lingered at his tailbone, and where it had passed, the wet trails now _burned._ Ishida felt no pleasure and prayed Ichigo did not mistake his audible gasps and groans for him begging for more. Fortunately no stupid assumptions were made, but Ichigo had decided to remove the pants and briefs. Now they form a pointless pool of discarded clothes on the stone floor.

And at this proximity, their crotches rubbed viciously against each other. The burning aftermath on his back was forgotten and Ishida ground into Ichigo.

"Don't – Ishida, stop."

Realising what he had done, Ishida tore himself away but a strong arm kept him still, so their chests were still touching. Embarrassed was clearly an understatement. So Ishida too was capable of "spur of the moment" actions – so much for tagging Ichigo for being an impulsive male.

"Not shy anymore, are we?" Ichigo chuckled. "I'm afraid it's affecting me."

Ichigo's free, dry hand cupped Ishida's bare buttocks and pulled him closer. Not expecting the sudden pull, Ishida almost lost his balance and held the teen before him tighter for support. Their erections clashed again, only Ichigo's seemed to have grown harder. Uneasy but pleased, Ishida spread his knees further to accommodate his partner's larger body. Their pelvic regions fit into each other more snugly and a synchronized, low moan hit the walls.

The ice then left his tailbone.

"Eh?"

His buttock cheeks were pulled apart, revealing the opening. The outer ring was flexing – Ishida was nervous again.

The ice descended along the crack, tortuously slow… and the burning sensation was now accompanied with itch. He _needed _Ichigo to touch him where the ice had, skin on skin – anything of human's body temperature would do! But his mind froze when the ice touched directly over his anus.

"Ishida?"

His voice had left him when Ichigo let the ice linger there for a second longer. The bungee rope allowed more maneuver for Ishida to wrap his bound arms around Ichigo's neck – support, support… he needed some support.

Then the blunt edge of the ice block slipped in.

Ishida's short cry startled Ichigo – he removed his hand, the ice no longer have any physical contact with Ishida's body, still, the pale grip on his shoulders were glaringly stiff. Ichigo rubbed at the opening with his index finger, warming it up. He would have counted "three" but Ishida's tremble had yet to fade.

So he slipped a section of his finger in.

"Kurosaki!"

Ishida flinched so hard the rope recoiled and cause him to bump hard into Ichigo's chest. He struggled against the larger frame but ceased it when Ichigo had his arms around him – the ice a melting mess on the floor.

"No penetration, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

During preparation, Grimmjow had advised them to talk. What they expect to experience during the one hour, what _not _to expect… there were not any risky items to play about since Grimmjow still did not trust Ichigo enough to handle them, but still, communication was very important during a session. So they talked, as the teal haired man had suggested. There was only one rule they agreed on after five minutes of discussion – Ishida was against any form of anal penetrations. He just was not ready.

"I'm sorry."

His lips inched closer to Ishida's – the latter had them parted, ready to accept or maybe still in a stupor – but all Ichigo said was, "Let's warm you up a bit."

His hand went down and stroked Ishida's hard on firmly. The brilliant blue eyes closed, relishing the building tension that was forming. Ichigo was kind, touching him everywhere, giving more wherever Ishida hissed or moaned even the slightest; then he heard a chink.

Ichigo had a hand on the trolley and he was retrieving a ring – a cock ring.

Without another word, Ichigo slipped it around the girth right before the scrotum.

"What is –"

"The orgasm will feel better," a hand brushed the dark bristle of hair behind Ishida's neck. "I'll make sure of it."

Ichigo dipped his hand once more into the bucket of ice. Ishida was troubled, but did Ichigo not give his word that nothing unfamiliar would enter him? Words are cheap, but at this time, only words were what Ishida could believe in. Ichigo's kind eyes were alight with concern and lust – and Ishida, to his own surprise, loosened up in his bounded form.

The freezing droplets from the melting ice had scorched his shoulder where it dropped. Ichigo held it still, letting more beads fall and fall, one, two… and another… from the shoulder to the collarbone. Ishida twitched.

"Hmm… still sensitive?" Ichigo whispered, his warm breath tingled Ishida's earlobe.

The raven haired only gave a sudden moan, soon erased with a grit of his jaw when the cold water accidentally splashed on his chest, very near to his nipple. The surprise caused a faint blush to form on his cheeks and Ichigo found it amusing. So he lowered the ice cube to the nipple, brushing the peak slowly, forcing Ishida to bite down harder, only to press the icy crystal into the nub.

"Kurosaki…" he whined, not liking the temperature.

Who would anyway? That was the point, Ichigo thought. Quietly he said, "Hey, can I ask you a question?"

An eye cracked open to scrutinize the other.

"This isn't the best time for questions –"

"No, I think this _is _the best time for questions."

The ice swirled playfully around Ishida's navel – he wondered when it had gone down so low – and he could not help but twitch again.

"You never talked about your father."

The last word had Ishida open both eyes so fast, the uncalled influx of light into his retina was mildly painful. But he cared not. He regarded Ichigo with annoyance and spoke a little bit harsher than he intended to. "I don't want to talk about him."

"Why?"

"_Why_ are you so insistent about this?"

"Ishida," Ichigo started, a deep rumble ringing in the name. "Are you forgetting your situation?"

The ice now landed purposely on the head of the penis. Ishida growled loudly and flung his legs around, adamant in kicking Ichigo away. But the orange haired teen had foreseen it; he locked those limbs with his arms, hooking them around each knee. His hand could still reach Ishida's erection and he did what Ishida dreaded, running the cube along the shaft.

"That – stop!"

"When you answer my question, I will."

Ishida's penis glistened with water under the candlelight. It was cold, very cold on his skin, painful even at times but the stinging aftermath was what maintain the erection, if not intensify it some more. It felt as if Ichigo was assaulting it with feathers, only it was not ticklish, but heavenly. Ishida swallowed thickly. Heavenly… he had described inhumane cold and pain and stinging heavenly.

"So, what kind of person is he?"

Ishida turned away, not wanting to give Ichigo the satisfaction of witnessing his face. He knew, now he had no command over his expression; not when his most intimate parts were being teased so erotically. Ichigo would be able to detect dilemma, perhaps even vague pleasure – none of which Ishida wanted to be seen.

The ice was now torturing the swelling balls. Somehow it felt even colder than before. By now the entire region was hurting more than it gave pleasure and Ishida started thrashing. It would not help much considering Ichigo was still holding tightly onto his legs – but as he flailed, Ichigo's grip on the ice became sloppier.

Then it slipped. It fell, and to Ishida's bad luck, it swept past his anus.

"Why won't you talk to me about your dad?"

His question was met only with a hateful, defiant stare. Ichigo sighed. With one swift heave, he pulled the shaking legs up over his shoulder, lifting Ishida entirely off the ground.

"Put me down!"

But Ichigo was looking blankly at what was presented inches before his nose. Ishida's proud erection was just a tongue swipe away and the black haired teen began pulling at his bonds. The position was downright shameful. Maybe to Ichigo, it was deliciously sexy and erotic to be at this distance – and true enough, a slick tongue came to swivel around the head of the penis, tasting every curve and surface of it.

Ishida reddened considerably. Did Ichigo not know – this was the first time he had given Ishida the oral?

He was excruciatingly erect by the time Ichigo went wild with the licking. Over the foreskin and veins, along the length, everywhere was kissed and worshipped with the tongue. Ishida could have let his legs fall of the broad shoulders and end it, but he himself was already drowning in hazy pleasure, moaning and gasping for breath. The incessant fondling, gentle yet sparingly rough, heightened the sensation. He really thought he was going to explode. But the ring was restricting him, not allowing him to hit _the _peak. It was frustrating.

"Ku – Kurosaki… take it off…"

At once, Ichigo placed his attention on his partner's visage, clouded with sexual wants. With a loud suction at the tip, Ichigo released Ishida and replied, "Not until you tell me about your father." A playful grin was in place.

"This is not a joking matter, Kurosaki!"

"Who says I'm playing a fool?"

His mouth returned to the penis.

Ishida's tear glands were going to burst if Ichigo kept on going without mercy. He needed release so direly, if it was physically possible, the cock ring would have burst apart to make way for a rapid gush of semen. What Ichigo had learned with his hands he applied with his mouth, knowing exactly which point to lick, suck and clamp on.

But why must it be his father?

"Don't do this…"

Ichigo hummed absent-mindedly. The vibration of his vocal cord caused the wall of his inner cheek to caress the organ – Ishida tossed his head backwards and bit on his lower lip.

He could not wait much longer.

"Kurosaki, release me –"

Ichigo sucked.

His torso and arms trembled visibly. He just needed out.

"Kurosaki!"

Ichigo paid no heed.

With a sharp, brutal intake of breath, Ishida confessed savagely, "He's a workaholic bastard who has no love for his own father, wife and son! All he sees is money; he tries to carve his ideal onto us!"

Ishida's lean legs slipped sideways and thudded on the ground on either side of a gaping Ichigo. Now staring face to face with his partner, he saw clearly, the torment and abhorrence at the mention and memory of the man whom Ishida should be calling "father".

"Grandpa died and he didn't even shed a tear. Mom left and he was still buried deep in work. Is that what you want to know, Kurosaki?"

There was trace amount of wetness in those angry eyes. Not for Ichigo, but he was the cause. He did not know… and he certainly knew he did not want to find out about it this way.

"_The session stops here."_

As soon as the announcement was made, bright light brimmed in the room and the teens wince. As their eyes adjusted to the surrounding, they saw Grimmjow, face stoic and cold, standing by the doorframe. His assistant was the one who came to the teens, lowering the rope and undoing the knots that were fastened around Ishida's wrists. Spontaneously, Ishida pulled his shirt around him, buttoning them with unsteady fingers – the numbness due to irregular flow of blood was affecting him. There was not much progress and his actions seemed mechanical – Ichigo's heart ached.

A shadow loomed over him – Grimmjow's.

"A dom should never bring in outside issues into the play, especially those that will affect the sub's state of mind adversely. That is as good as mental torture."

Ichigo contemplated on how selfish he was; using those dirty actions as means to blackmail Ishida. The ache in his heart throb more, now that he realise that was exactly what he had just done – blackmailing. Had he broken what trust he was given by Ishida?

The door slammed shut again as Grimmjow exited the chamber. Ishida's back was still shaking slightly.

And from where he was, behind the sitting body, Ichigo wrap his arms around Ishida's neck. His front felt the shock on the other teen's back – he might not have expected Ichigo to be still in the room – but Ishida was neither more relaxed nor tensed than what he was before the ropes come loose. Ichigo slowly massaged the deadness of those arms away, rubbing firmly at the knotted muscles. Ishida let him, let Ichigo finish the buttoning of his shirt and then, as careful as possible, ease the cock ring out from the now half-flaccid organ.

They basked in the silence of the room and the closeness of their bodies; their presence securing the reservation one had for the other. They were too old to be caught in a blame game, yet too young to empathize. Ichigo snuck his head deeper into Ishida's shoulder, appreciating the scent that was unique to his partner. When Ishida lean into him, he understood it was all over. Should he be saying something, then? Often, when it came to matters between them, words fail. Words were tools for communication, to bridge their worlds together, to make Ishida understand how much he meant to him. Ichigo admitted he was horrendously lousy at it – Ishida himself too, to a certain extent – and it did strain their relationship a bit.

If communication was all they need, would BDSM help teach them? The true meaning of communication, via the heart when the mouths were gagged, the limbs bound, the soul brimming with carnal desires?

But what about words?

Words are cheap, but at this time, only words were what Ichigo could believe in.

"Thank you, Ishida."


	3. Chapter 3

Kurosaki Ichigo – age, 19. A first year undergraduate. Currently living together with Ishida Uryuu; age, 19, also attending the same university as Ichigo.

That was, at least, what people perceive on the surface.

The deeper truth was, both were not only partners in bed but also advanced participants in BDSM, bordering on hardcore sometimes. Ishida had turned the tables over once, or maybe thrice… or maybe more than that throughout the three years they had been engaged in the activity. So instead of being bound and gagged and rendered defenseless, _he _called the shots. But that happened only during the times when Ichigo felt he had to go easy on him (Ishida was studying under the Medical faculty and therefore, his workload was undeniably more), yet at the same time, both were itching to have their hands on each other.

Sometimes when Ishida had to stay over in his lab or the university hospital for his assignments, Ichigo would wait for phone calls (just in case) at home and every so often, wonder if Ishida would ever give himself to him. The longing always made him felt guilty – that sometimes he asked himself if all he really wanted at the moment of Ishida was sex – so he pushed the question far back into his mind and never bring it out. Only, it had the tendency to re-emerge during those few minutes when he was lying on the bed, waiting for sleep to claim him.

Ichigo really needed to do something to stop thinking about it.

The chance came when the dean of his faculty decided to organise a once in a blue moon excursion to South Korea – only 100 limited places were up for grab. Ichigo, with some inside help had managed to book a place for himself and asked if it was possible to have another friend tag along. Since said friend was not a student of the same faculty, Ichigo's request was rejected. At home over dinner, he updated Ishida with information about the trip – the _two weeks_ long trip.

"If you must," Ishida had said. "It's not just for play, is it?"

"Of course not. It's a home stay programme and we're required by the dean to familiarize ourselves with the…"

While it was a good chance to know of the Korean culture (which could possibly be beneficial for finals, Ichigo suspected), he also wanted to use this opportunity to get some fresh air, clear his head… day in, day out, he sees Ishida, observes the way he moves, walks, eats, speaks, quarrels… anymore of him and Ichigo feared he would really force himself onto his partner.

So this fortnight of separation would do everybody some good, hopefully.

Ishida did not think so, but he forced himself to be mindful of his meal, and dinner went on in awkward silence. The time spent between just the two of them was limited what with Ishida's commitment to his studies and Ichigo's on-field assignments for the semester. Ultimately, they were not children. They had responsibilities and Ishida convinced himself that it would be stupid and ignorant of him to chain Ichigo at base just because he was not willing to have the orange headed missing for two weeks.

That night, they went to bed together. Their kisses were filled with fiery passions and everywhere, Ichigo had laid his marks on Ishida's pale body. He was going to have to wear a collared long sleeved dress shirt tomorrow to cover those evidences of a steamy night – but as Ichigo's large hand grope him at places, Ishida could care less. Their petting was unreserved and wild and it was only at three in the morning that they decided to have some sleep – after Ichigo force another shot of cum from his partner.

And since they were not going to see each other for two weeks, why not compensate those missing days while they still had time together?

-----

"Hey, how are you doing?"

Ichigo called everyday on international line. Ishida was not going to kill the mood by asking the cost, so he let Ichigo tell stories, jokes, fun facts and occasionally some tedious details about his interaction with the locals. Ishida would sit on the floor, phone receiver glued tightly to his ear as he nod absent-mindedly, muttering vague "hmm" and "I see" wherever he deem appropriate, a small smile on his lips.

The calls were not very informational but as long as he knew Ichigo had him in his thoughts, he was very happy.

At the end of the second week, Ishida as usual, waited patiently for Ichigo's call at home. Only this time, instead of hovering around the phone (with a thick book of medical dictionary or likewise in hand), he was coughing profusely on the sofa, his throbbing head cushioned by two large cotton pillows, his throat sore. Ichigo was late tonight; he should be already barraging the phone with "Ishida, how are you; oh, there's an awesome dish here called…"

Ishida admitted he felt slightly disappointed when the idea of Ichigo forgetting to call him tonight surge, but it was all right because Ichigo was going to board that plane and fly back to him the next day. Ishida soon fell asleep when the dose of codeine he took kick in – that was when a call he had been waiting all night came in, but it went into the voice mail. So for that one full minute, his soft snore serenaded Ichigo's enthusiastic voice.

It did not matter; Ichigo was coming back the next day.

-----

"Hello, Ishida?"

"Kurosaki?"

Ishida checked the number that was flashing on the ID caller – local landline.

"You're back?" he asked, his heart beating a notch faster.

"Yes – no, please don't come to the airport. I've flagged a taxi; they're loading my luggage in."

"Why didn't you tell me earlier? I could've picked you up –"

"No, it's fine. I'm heading there now; give me forty-five minutes or so."

Ishida covered the mouthpiece as he coughed. Then he continued, slightly nasally, "Heading where? Home?"

"No – oh, you didn't get the message?"

Ishida fumbled around the phone and clicked his tongue when he saw what he missed; two incoming voice mails. And he thought he was going to put extra chili sauce into Ichigo's lunch and dinner for ignoring him during the last two days he was in Korea.

"Ishida?"

He swallowed thickly and said, "I'm listening. I didn't check the voice mails –"

"It's all right, you must be busy with your work too. In fact, it's selfish of me to call you near midnight everyday for the past two weeks."

"Never mind that; what message do you mean?"

"Ishida," Ichigo said again, his voice hoarse. Ishida insides clenched – he could only hear that voice when Ichigo was busy pleasuring him in bed. Flustered, he pushed his glasses up. Ichigo spoke again, "I've already booked a room with Grimmjow. Can you go there? Now?"

"… Yes."

"I'll see you there."

Then the phone clicked – the taxi driver must have already called Ichigo to get in.

Ishida packed a bag with a bottle of water and his medication – he decided to skip over his cough syrup since it make him drowsy in two hours – and within two minutes, Ishida was also out of his home.

-----

"Oh, early, aren't you? I wasn't expecting you until four."

Ichigo nodded courteously at Grimmjow and settled the payment and formalities at the counter. The blue haired man was communicating with someone – his assistant maybe – on the walkie-talkie. Once the papers were filled, Ichigo gave a quick wave before charging down the familiar hallway, his eyes searching for Dungeon 5.

Too long had he been denied release; release in Ishida's arms. He wanted to show how much he missed him, how much he wanted to have his skin stick on his, to have their breaths mingled as they greedily claim each other's body for the day.

The heavy door was shoved open with one mighty push and there, in the middle of the large chamber, Ichigo found his prize. It had been two weeks and he had somewhat forgotten at how the slender, unblemished body look under the dim candlelight in restrains.

Ichigo had requested for a session of heavy BDSM the moment he touchdown in Japan. They had advanced after three years of "training" under Grimmjow's tutelage and now, Ichigo was given permission to handle a much wider array of items to be used on his sub. For today, he had specifically asked Grimmjow to dress Ishida in a customized leather trunk – something he had a penchant for – and hook the raven haired to the ceiling, as usual.

That was exactly how he found Ishida in Dungeon 5.

"Kurosaki," Ishida greeted, his tone slightly breathless.

Ichigo did not reply. He instead jogged forward and crushed his lips onto Ishida's, unleashing two weeks' worth of pent up frustration at not having his partner in his vicinity. Ishida reciprocated meekly, allowing Ichigo to slide his wet tongue into his oral cavity, letting it wrestle earnestly with his own. When they broke apart, Ishida chuckle softly, "Long time no see."

"Yeah, too long."

He wrapped his arms around Ishida, pulling him closer as they kissed again. The chains chinked as Ichigo let his hands travel down Ishida's back and up again, rocking the smaller frame with passion. Ishida pulled back first, his face a tint redder.

Ichigo forgot; he had one hour to boot.

The edge of his mouth curled upwards as he entered his dominant mode. Ishida, still out of breath with arms secured above his head, smiled.

"One hour to go," he said, reading his partner's mind accurately.

Ichigo took a black blindfold and a gag from the trolley and stole Ishida's eyesight with the cloth. How ironic to have Ishida blinded the moment he got to set eyes on Ichigo again. Softly, Ichigo planted a chaste kiss on his lips before nudging at it with the gag. Unlike their first time, Ishida obediently opened his mouth and allowed the buckle to be tightened.

Blind, mute and limp – the way Ichigo love his sub to be in during a high level BDSM play.

He walked around the unmoving form, stopping when he was behind Ishida. Inclining his head a bit, Ichigo said barely noticeably, "The safe word is still Quincy, right?"

Ishida nodded.

It was Ishida who set it – to Ichigo's bewilderment. Never in his entire life had he heard such a thing but somehow, it had a nice ring to it when spoken with Ishida's voice. And not to mention, something as random as Quincy would definitely spring both dom and sub to reality. Ichigo of course never mentioned its mood destructing property for fear of being forced to sleep in the hall as retaliation on Ishida's part.

Strong fingers ghosted along Ishida's naked torso, along the jaw line, the neck, shoulders and the lean sides… Ishida shuddered as it tickled. Ten finger pads then scattered like spiders around his abdomen. Ishida could not predict where Ichigo would be touching next, usually he could but these two weeks of depravation had really set Ichigo off. A thumb flicked purposely at his nipple and the chains chink – Ichigo laughed quietly. Ishida for all he know could be seething under the blindfold and gag, and disregarding that, he plucked at both the nipples simultaneously. A groan cracked and Ichigo kept his rubbing and pinching, teasing them until they stood erect on the chest.

"You're never missing from my mind throughout those two weeks, Ishida," Ichigo mumbled as he ironed the flat chest with a large palm. He dug a finger into the sternum, earning a jerk from Ishida. "I want to show you how much I miss you." He then thrust his clothed half-erect cock into Ishida's buttocks. Ichigo ignored the gasps and gyrated his hip. "I know if I go home and see you, I'll throw you onto the bed and do something real bad." Ichigo's breath was as harsh as Ishida's. He held the lean waist still and thrust his hips out, simulating what he had wanted to do with the other man, an urge he had altruistically held back throughout the years out of respect for the other's wish. "_Real bad_, Ishida."

Ishida gagged against the ball in his mouth. Ichigo stopped his pounding and distanced himself. "Sorry," he said. His cast his head down, his forehead resting on Ishida's shoulder. "But I must have you, maybe not in that way, so I bring you here."

Ichigo quietly ran his hand over Ishida's thighs, feeling the muscles flex under his touch. Up and up his hands went, and Ishida waited with hitching breath. But they stopped right before where Ishida expect them to _touch _and he cursed – forgotten that he had his tongue tied down.

"Why the hurry?" Ichigo taunted, licking at the shell of Ishida's ear.

Then Ichigo's presence seemed to disappear. Ishida kept still, straining his ears to pick up a footstep – maybe he had returned to the trolley for another item? But no sooner than the guess was made, something slick and warm was swirling around his collarbone. The top of Ichigo's head was tickling his chin and he turned his head – he was not exactly allowed to scratch anywhere itchy what with his arms up high in the air – and Ichigo took the opportunity to suck at the juncture of his shoulder. The tongue went over his heart and down to the slightly toned lower abdomen before Ichigo had to stop above the hem of the leather trunk.

"I'll be damned – I ask for this specially and now I hate it." He kissed the mound and let his front teeth scrape over it, hard enough for Ishida to feel below the layer of hide. "Do you want me to service you here?" Ichigo asked, jabbing at the half-hard penis. Ishida looked away. "Ishida… if you don't tell me, I won't know if you like me to touch you here." Ichigo cupped the balls and gave them a light squeeze. If Ishida's legs were working, he would've kicked the bastard square in the face for toying with him.

Still not satisfied with Ishida's adamancy, Ichigo slide the leather trunk down, stripping Ishida to only his skin.

"I haven't seen this side of you for two weeks," Ichigo spoke again in a deep, dangerous voice. "Just a nod, and I'll make you touch heaven. What do you say to that proposition?" And to make sure Ishida understood what he meant, Ichigo kissed the tip of the penis. The foreskin slipped in between his lips easily and Ichigo wetted them with his tongue, pulling another groan from Ishida.

"Well?"

It was indistinct, subtle, but Ichigo recognised the nod.

So he took the organ in, letting his tongue wrap over it with ease. Ichigo worked confidently, extracting strangled moan after moan from Ishida. When the latter felt his knees weakening, Ichigo held those legs firmly as he sucked and licked even harder. The first wave of orgasm hit him precisely when the hot mouth left the shaft, lowering to assault the swollen balls. Ichigo did not pull back even when Ishida ejaculated; and the second wave racked him after the first ended, albeit only for a very brief while.

Ichigo had to remove the gag to allow Ishida easier flow of air throughout his system. The latter panted hard.

"Don't you do it to yourself when I wasn't here?" Ichigo asked, wiping sweat off Ishida's brow as he said so.

Ishida knew it was an honest question, another example of "spur of the moment", but that did not mean it was not embarrassing matter to ask.

"Shut up."

Ichigo tutted, "No, no... that's not the way to speak to your dom, Ishida."

There was a clatter of something rusty rolling and Ishida's knees buckled when his arms were suddenly released. Ichigo caught him around his midriff and he winced. It went unnoticed.

"Can you walk?"

Ishida pushed himself up and stood as steadfastly as he could. Ichigo was probably minding the trolley since he heard something rattling on the stone floor as though being pushed. So with Ichigo steering the way, he traipsed blindly, stopping only when his guide did.

"Put your arms here," Ichigo instructed with a voice as light as in normal conversations with his course mates. It was another side of him that Ishida respect, that Ichigo never ordered anyone to do anything and was assertive without needing to be aggressive.

The surface which Ichigo had meant was low, about knee-high and Ishida knelt gingerly, resting both arms at the edge of what felt like a desk. He was now bent over with his chest on the cold, smooth surface of the furniture. The next thing he felt was his wrists shackled to the edge.

"Is this uncomfortable?"

With his head bowed, lying against the desk, mucous began clotting his nasal cavity. Breathing was more difficult. Ishida made a mental note not to purchase another bottle of nasal spray – it never worked no matter what the company that produced it claimed.

"Ishida?"

"I'm fine."

Satisfied, Ichigo went and took something (which sounded heavy and cumbersome) out of the trolley. A drop of something on his back took him by surprise – and it burned. Ishida suspected ice but several more drops splashed on his skin again and they were not cold in the tiniest bit.

"Do you know what this is?"

More liquid dribbled on his skin. A stray stream of the hot liquid had dribbled to his side and Ishida suppressed a cry. That had hurt more than it should, assuming he had guessed the nature of the substance right. But in his current state, he was not surprised it did.

"Wax…"

Ichigo let out a light laughter. "With your flawless diagnosing skills, Japan should be honoured to hail the arrival of future Doctor Ishida."

Ishida was finding it more difficult to supply his body with sufficient oxygen, especially when he had a cloaked nose and his back was almost burning with wax. Even in his discomfort, the tautening effect that was left on his skin below the layer of wax told – or rather, spelled – something that made his heart race harder. A kanji… a character that had never been uttered verbally throughout the entire three years they had been together. That could be because exteriorly he seemed to forbid Ichigo from saying it, and he would never find _himself_ saying it even in his wildest dreams.

"I've always wanted to say this to you," Ichigo started. Ishida let his temple rest on the desk as coarse fingers trace the outline of the wax on his back. "Until you're ready, until you believe completely in what we are, then I'll say this to you."

But Ishida already knew what it was.

"Hmm… your back is so warm…"

Soft hair tickled his sides when Ichigo nuzzled his cheek into Ishida's back.

It was not that Ishida had no faith in their relationship. If he were to declare his feelings for Ichigo or otherwise, what then? Because it was superficial and contribute nothing at all to their lives, why bother? But when it came to _necessity_, what should Ishida do? He asked himself many times over, should he after all, surrender? Surrender and comply with Ichigo's wish; maybe it was an aspect Ishida had failed to take into consideration, that if they really did merge physically, it would only give birth to a more fulfilling and sated relationship?

"Kurosaki, if I can't ever give what you seek, will you look for anoth – _ah!_"

The wax had landed on his bare buttocks.

"Don't…"

The shaking voice did not suit Ichigo. Was he not a man of confidence and pride?

"Kurosaki?"

"Don't – I'll never, Ishida. Never."

His butt cheeks were spread apart roughly. Shocked, Ishida gripped the edge of the desk instinctively and held his breath. This was so unlike Ichigo. Where had the collected and calm him go?

A quick moan was expulsed when Ichigo's tongue darted over the offered anus. But it did not stop there; it prodded _in_. Ishida's knuckles were white against the wood.

"Kurosaki! What are you doing?"

Ichigo thrust his tongue in, massaging what it could reach with dexterousness. Warm saliva trickled down to his ball and Ishida clamped his thighs, a strong message for Ichigo to stop. But a hand slipped in between to fondle at the growing erection, handling it with expertise. Ichigo had already mapped out Ishida's pleasure points – fighting against pleasure was a battle any man would lose.

"Kurosaki!"

Ichigo feigned deafness and quickened the pace, both in the tongue thrusting and hand job. Ishida's breathing was labored, his chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. His vision went white a number of times but Ishida clenched harder on the table, not allowing his senses to leave him just yet. His legs were already a lost case and he supported himself with the desk.

It was difficult to savour pleasure when all Ishida had in mind was not to fall over.

"Cum for me, Ishida…"

The tongue now lapped hungrily at the underside of the ball as Ichigo's long fingers toyed with the head. With a gentle squeeze there, a guttural groan tore out of Ishida's lungs, so raw it stirred heat in Ichigo's own abandoned erection. Ishida's flexible backbone had arched to its maximum capacity as load after load of semen were shot out. Evidences of sexual satiation now lay in pools on the floor.

Ishida closed his eyes. With the blindfold, darkness, whether his eyes were opened or not did not matter.

Then he heard Ichigo's groan behind him.

"Kurosaki?"

Another set of panting accompanied Ishida's own. He tried to look back but in his restrains, it was hard to even turn his neck. Panic surged.

"Kurosaki? Are you all right?"

The unmistaken sound zip of being pulled caught Ishida's ears and he shuddered visibly when Ichigo's footsteps were approaching.

"Kurosaki?" he called out nervously. His wrists shook against the table and his knees went number, if at all possible.

Ichigo however, unbuckled the straps that were holding Ishida down and pulled him up. His knees creaked at the sudden jolt.

"I've to get rid of it," and Ichigo waved vaguely at his crotch. "Or seeing you bent over like that, I'm not sure I can resist it any longer. One more thing, Ishida." They started walking again towards the center of the room where the chains were located. Ishida trudged as quickly as he could, his hand being pulled by Ichigo. "We should be above the niceties and stop being overprotective over each other. This is a high level BDSM play." The chains were secured again around the wrists. Slowly, Ishida's arms were raised until they were over his head.

"For the next twenty minutes, I don't want you to make a single noise."

And Ichigo, for the first time, raised the chain higher until Ishida's toes barely touch the ground.

"That is – Kurosaki, what's wrong? You never –"

His words were cut short when a stinging lash scorched the back of his thighs. The sound of a whip being readied stabbed the solemn air and Ishida struggled, forgetting that he was partially airborne with the sole chain attaching him to the ceiling for support.

"Not a single noise, Ishida."

Two more lashes struck him, this time on the buttocks. Ishida, still shocked at the sudden change of personality, chose to remain quiet and access the situation. Suddenly he hated being robbed of his sight. He wished to have a look at Ichigo's visage, at the expression when he whipped another human being.

"Those are warm-ups, punishment for making noises."

Ishida could scarcely feel his legs. They hung uselessly with only faded pain to remind him they were still attached to his hip.

"Ten lashes."

Ishida had been whipped but never in this atmosphere. He hated it. He hated it when Ichigo seemed to not care each time he swing his leathery flog, as if the pain dealt onto another was meaningless. It takes a masochist to fully appreciate this kind of sordid deed but Ishida just could not comprehend it as a gesture of compassion. It hurt, and worse still he did not know if Ichigo was enjoying it as much as a sadistic dom should. He could not see.

"One."

The whip landed on his back. He felt something flaky crumble against his skin – the dried wax.

"Two."

Ishida bit the insides of his cheeks, preventing any sounds from escaping his throat. This had got to be most intense hardcore session he had been put through as a sub. The last time they had whipping, Ishida was only given seven. Ichigo had increased the count to ten, and what did the extra three mean? Or so Ishida thought until the fourth lash.

At the fifth, he could not keep his groan in. A hiss accompanied the sickening slashing sound of the whip on his back.

"Did I hear something?"

Ishida started panting. All he could hear now was his own heart pumping blood in his ears and his shallow inhales and exhales.

"Six."

A sharp cry was elicited this time. His body had jerked more forcefully and he shivered against the cold chains. Every hit felt more painful than the past ones. Did Ichigo use a different whip or did he use more force this time?

"You managed to go through all seven without a noise last time, Ishida. Your resilience is low today."

Ishida said nothing, his head drooping onto his chest. He knew his skin was not torn – no matter what, he knew Ichigo would never allow bloodletting, and with Grimmjow's strict policy of safety, all the more so to believe he was not bleeding – but with the wax reduced to flecks by the blows and the skin still sensitive after the waxing, whipping had become even more painful.

And the white spots had returned to his vision. His head buzzed. He could no longer hear Ichigo's count but the hot lashing on his shoulder blade was very vivid. Another sharp cry was let out.

"This won't do, Ishida. I guess another punishment is in order."

The chain was lowered. Ishida winced again when he felt solid ground under him and was a little bit worried when he found his legs could not stand on their own. He raised his head but even with the blindfold on, he knew his vision was swimming.

"Hmm… this is surprising. You're normally very sensitive here… I thought I'll be looking at a raging erection now…"

Ichigo was standing before him, close, since he intended to fix a cock ring around Ishida's shaft. Not trying to guess where Ichigo's shoulder was or even if he was still in front of him, Ishida let his head fall and was relieved to find it resting on his partner's chest.

"Begging isn't going to help. Punishment is punishment."

"Quincy…"

Ichigo's eyes widened. He twisted his neck so quickly he could have snapped a vein but he scrutinized Ishida's sweaty visage more closely. Cupping the jaw line tenderly, Ichigo asked, "What did you say?"

"Quincy…" the word was whispered wearily through chapped lips. When Ishida's breathing had been shallow and brisk, now it was deep and strenuous. The chains clang again when Ishida's whitish fingers released them – he had been holding on to them for dear life since his lower limbs were not functioning.

"Ishida!" Ichigo asked in alarmed, almost shouting. "What's wrong?"

Quickly he removed the blindfold. Sapphire irises were glassy below his eyelids – Ichigo held Ishida tighter and freed his wrists. Lowering him to the ground, Ichigo yelled to the door and around the corners where the microphones were installed.

"Help! Can somebody help! Please, quickly!"

He laid Ishida on his lap and promptly unbuttoned his own shirt to cover Ishida's naked form. The door was flung open so hard it bounced off the wall, but Ichigo did not care whether it was because the person now looking down at them – Grimmjow – was pissed.

"Medic!" the blue haired man shouted.

A man shorter than Ichigo swept past Grimmjow to attend to Ishida who was now laid on another piece of thicker blanket. As Ichigo watch with clenched fists, Grimmjow crept up to his side. He saw how Ichigo tremble when the medic shook his head, how Ichigo grit his teeth when the medic sighed after taking Ishida's pulse.

"What have I done?" he uttered weakly.

Grimmjow heard it but chose not to acknowledge it. Instead, he removed his jacket and shoved it hard into Ichigo's chest, knocking him back a bit.

"You'll catch a cold."

"Grimmjow-sama," the Medic suddenly said, "the rest room or the private room?"

"Private."

"I'll make preparations then."

The Medic sprung to his feet and was about to rush out before Ichigo stopped him, fisting his collar in desperation for answers. "How is Ishida?"

"Why should you care?"the Medic responded coolly, regarding Ichigo with condescending eyes.

"Please, what's wrong with him?"

It must have been his fault then. It must have been or the Medic would not have looked at him like a disgusting slug unworthy to slither on earth.

"His blood pressure is low and he's burning with fever. He's not fit to be in a in any form of BDSM play, sub or dom. How funny it is to answer to someone who'd pushed his sub so far to this state. Now if you'll excuse me."

What, in the name of God, had he done to Ishida?

-----

The private room was indeed, a lot more comfortable than the normal resting ones. They were also located in a different wing than the dungeons and reception hall, probably to avoid meeting between collapsed BDSM participants with the rest. It was not good for the center's reputation after all. Grimmjow who had personally carried Ishida to a vacant room where he now lay resting on a bed looked like he was close to ripping Ichigo's guts out (if only law did not prohibit it). Ichigo did not talk back, he took Grimmjow's reprimand silently – but half of the time the words did not penetrate. He was too deeply consumed in guilt, wallowing in self-disgust until it probably showed on his face since Grimmjow finally sighed and asked for his jacket back.

Ichigo's eyes caught sight of numerous old scars adorning Grimmjow's bare back. The latter caught Ichigo staring but merely shrugged.

"They were from a past relationship."

Ichigo, distractedly, asked, "In a BDSM setting?"

The jacket was taken from Ichigo's arms and Grimmjow plunged his right hand into the sleeve. "I was a sub to another man. He was a person of little self-control; never knew he was hurting me since I didn't tell. But that's the past, what importance does it have to the present and future?"

Ichigo saw the opposite. It was the past which dictates the present and future – if Grimmjow's past had not affected him so severely, this man would never set up another BDSM center and preach upon proper etiquette in the discipline. And if the past dictates the future, what should Ichigo expect once Ishida gained consciousness?

What if Ishida wanted out?

-----

It was very dark when he opened his eyes; darker even than the dungeon but much more comfy. He turned to the side and saw sheer curtain billowing slightly in the wind; there was a half-opened window built into the wall by the bed. Pulling it aside, the shadowy room brightens up as moon shone gently into the space.

It shone gently onto another sleeping form whose head was resting on folded arms on his mattress.

"Kurosaki?" he called, shaking the shoulders.

Ichigo groaned in his slumber and turned his head to the other way, only to suddenly jerk awake and blink in the dark.

"Ishida?" he asked uncertainly.

"Hey."

Impulsively, Ichigo got up and pulled the other into a warm embrace. As he snuggle into the crook of Ishida's neck, he exhaled generously, relieved and most of all, grateful that Ishida was sitting and talking.

"Why didn't you tell me you were ill? How long has it been?"

"Three days. What's a little fever anyway?"

"I could've hurt you seriously back there."

"You didn't."

Ichigo peeled himself slowly and held Ishida by his shoulders. His eyes bore into his partner's and mutedly, he said, "But I could."

"Well if that's the case, I assure you, when I get back on my feet, I'll hunt your sorry back down and make you pay twice as bad."

But it was no joking matter. Ishida did not understand the fear gripping his heart throughout the day. How could he make Ishida understand his guilt?

"You know, Kurosaki – do you remember the first day we step foot in Grimmjow's center? What makes you think BDSM is worth trying out?"

What did that have to do with their present?

"I think I'm getting it," Ishida said. He leaned closer, his nose barely touching Ichigo's. "Trust and respect, isn't that what we have for each other now?"

"What are you getting at?"

"If it's anything that happened back there, it's because I trust your actions and judgment. These three years are my happiest and I'm grateful for that. So thank you."

Their lips touched, soft, innocent – shy.

"And if you still want to have me, I am ready."

Then Ichigo seized Ishida firmly and kissed him properly, an expressive one that smolders of wanton infatuation and love. Suddenly the declaration did not matter – even if Ishida never agreed to it, Ichigo would not mind. As long as he could have him by his side, nothing did. Ishida's body heated up and Ichigo tactfully retreated, patting at the pillow that Ishida had slept on earlier just now.

"For the time being, you need your rest. When you feel better, we'll do it over… and over again," Ichigo pecked mischievously at the edge of Ishida's lips. "Until the night is over."

Their light chuckle graced the room.

Yes, for now, this was all that mattered.


End file.
